


Shining With Hope

by distanceseventeen



Category: Deltarune (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Existentialism, Fate & Destiny, Gen, Mortality, Religion, Terminal Illnesses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-11
Updated: 2019-12-11
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:33:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21754549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/distanceseventeen/pseuds/distanceseventeen
Summary: Ralsei's purpose is absolute.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 43





	Shining With Hope

**Author's Note:**

> A companion to [ your castle hollow and cold](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21655825). Consider this an expansion of my Ralsei headcanons. 
> 
> This ficlet was originally posted to my [ Tumblr](https://a-town-called-hometown.tumblr.com/).

There is no afterlife for a Darkner. None of the perfect stillness in the Angel's Heaven, none of the pandemonium that lies outside of Their domain. Those places are meant for those with souls. Darkners are the dreams of children transformed into flesh and blood, and therefore, have no persistence after they are destroyed. They have no concept of permanence. There is only the knowledge that they are transitory as passing shadows. There is only the simple hope that, though they will be forgotten, their existence will have changed the world in some fashion.

So Ralsei does not pray to an Angel. 

He prays, instead, to his purpose.

_Once upon a time, a legend was whispered among shadows…_

The prophecy he serves calls for his death, yes, but first, he is promised fulfillment. He is told he will be blessed for serving such a glorious destiny. When he feels alone, the knowledge is always there, close at hand. He prays by whispering the words that have become air to him.

_For millennia, LIGHT and DARK have lived in balance…_

He is alive solely for this reason. Every trait of his has been shaped so he can enact the will of fate. He will be a tool used by a higher power, every bit of his talent wrung out in order to make the world safe. He would not exist without fate. Why should he quibble over how quickly his life will be taken when it isn't his in the first place?

_The sky will run black with terror…_

He is only unhappy because the heroes haven't arrived yet. After all, he can't know true happiness unless he experiences pain first. It's necessary for his character development. Everything must be for a reason. It's Ralsei's own fault that he doesn't quite understand the reasons yet. Perhaps he'll see it once his devotion becomes perfect. Perhaps his fears will be finally left behind then.

_The EARTH will draw her final breath..._

There is only room for black and white in his world. There is only what serves the prophecy and what hinders it. His fear of his own death is a hindrance. He hopes that flaw will be removed. It's making him doubt what must not be doubted. Shouldn't he be certain that his death is necessary by now?

_Three HEROES appear at WORLDS' edge..._

And when he is lying alone in his bed, when his stomach starts to churn, and he is so overcome with the fear of nonexistence that he can't think, he repeats the words over and over, searching for the joy he is promised. There's nothing with him in the dark, nobody to hold, nothing besides the void to confess his terror to. All he has are words. And those words sometimes feel like a slim rope to hang from.

He is always ashamed of it when morning arrives.

_Only then will balance be restored…_

This is his fate: the quest will end. Everyone will have found fulfillment. The magic powering him will run out, and in the moment where his accomplishment is greatest, he will disappear. He can't let that knowledge destroy him. He's wrong for thinking so deeply about it. The prophecy will fail if he wavers even the smallest bit in his resolve.

_And with it, the balance of LIGHT and DARK begins to shift…_

He repeats his prayers. And deep down, in the holes slowly widening at his center, he hides his terror where he doesn't have to look at it anymore, right next to the yearning for a life he isn't meant to have. He pretends to be serene. He does it so well that when the heroes finally arrive to escort him to his doom, he does not let his voice waver, though he is terrified under his cloak.

He says his prayer for them. His voice rings out loud and clear, flowing through words he's said a million times. They don't react. That's okay. They'll understand it soon enough.

Hopefully, it's just the flaw in his own devotion that prevents him from understanding it, too.

He wouldn't want to die with his faith still imperfect.


End file.
